Harry Potter and the Kyuubi no Youko
by RandomTopic
Summary: HPNaruto crossover Lily Evans had a brother. But no one knew, not even James, not even after she took in her brother's son and pretended he was her son. So when Harry discovers some rather odd abilities not magic related, he's understandably confused.
1. Chapter 1: No Justice

Title: Harry Potter and the Kyuubi no Youko

Chapter: 1

Fandom: Harry Potter/Naruto, crossover

Summary: Lily Evans had a brother. But no one knew, not even James, not even after she took in her brother's son and pretended he was her son. So when Harry discovers some rather odd abilities not even wizards had, he's understandably confused.

Pairings: Undecided.

Rating: R. Some details on childbirth in this chapter.

Genre: General

Disclaimer: I own neither.

Notes: Inspired by "Mordred's Lullaby" by Heather Dale. Then it veered out of control. (And yes, you are not supposed to know everything that is actually happening. There are ninjas. They're supposed to lie and hide.)

Recommended Music: "Mordred's Lullaby" by Heather Dale.

**EDIT:** I got two reviews that commented on how old Harry is at this point. When I went back, I realized that he WOULD be a bit too old in this chapter. So I have changed what I think is _everything_ that hints to him being older than a newborn. I'm sorry for any confusion. If there's an inconsistency with what should now be Harry newborn-status, feel free to point it out in a review.

oOo

_There is no justice in this world_, was the thought that streamed through Lily Potter's mind, dancing and taunting her.

She had thought she knew injustice... as she watched the crimes against humanity committed by Death Eaters, the loyal followers of the _insane_ Dark Lord Voldemort, the intricate and delicate art on the floors made of blood of the dead. When she went to visit her friend on her day off only to find a broken, nude corpse of the friend, dignity and virtue taken forcibly from her. When she came home to tell her parents of how she would marry James Potter, he proposed, she was engaged, wasn't that wonderful? but instead saw a black cloak slip from her view, the glowing green Dark Mark and her parents, dead.

Lily was wrong. That was only one step of injustice. Not the worst, either.

James Potter was a miracle in her eyes. Without him, Lily never would have gotten over her parents' deaths, or her sister's harsh words and blame. Without him, she would have been alone at night, to face her nightmares and fears. Without him, no one would hear to her whispers when she talks to photographs of dead people and understand how much each person meant to her.

Without him, no one would keep her steady on the world.

Lily married him nine months ago, and already he knew nearly all there was to know about her.

Nearly.

There was one secret she has yet to say, but say it she never will. Such a secret Lily preferred to take to her grave, to bury in memories. She almost succeeded, until the final injustice.

When James' seed had created life within her, Lily had been ecstatic. The world was less dangerous and colors brighter. Feeling James' baby kick in her womb gave her a sense of elation she hadn't thought possible. She picked the colors of their baby's room, his name, talked excitedly to Alice Longbottom, who was also pregnant; all Lily spoke of for months was their baby. James, Sirius, Remus and Peter all listened, even if they tired of it.

Lily felt so lucky then. She had a wonderful husband, and a baby on the way.

But then there was a complication.

Lily was alone, resting. She fell asleep, and woke by the pain of contractions.

Lily assessed her situation. She was alone, with no method of transportation (she had told James they needed a car, but they had never gotten around to it) as Floo powder would be too dangerous for the baby, and she might go off-course if a particularly painful contraction struck. Apparation was no better. Many horror stories Lily had heard from older witches who had had complications due to Apparating in the last trimester of their pregnancy.

So Lily prepared herself. On the floor of her kitchen, she set up towels and rags she wouldn't mind vanishing afterwards, put cleaning clothes and necessary medical tools to the side for taking care of the baby after it had arrived.

James wasn't due back for hours, Lily knew. He was working with Dumbledore; they had thought it would be fine for Lily to be alone, since the baby was predicted to arrive in two weeks.

Lily did for herself what she had done to too many girls, muggle and magical, unfortunate enough to have been raped by pureblooded bigots. She cleaned herself out to avoid unnecessary mess during the birth, and kept herself walking to have gravity helped the baby down for as long as she could.

The baby came just a few hours later. Lily felt pleased as the pain began to fade; but then horror set in.

"Why isn't my baby crying?" she whispered in the silence but she already knew, already felt the misery settling in her heart. The baby's umbilical cord had wrapped around his neck, strangling him.

The world twisted as she mechanically cut the umbilical cord, the bright red of her blood mingling with the Gryffindor colors of the bedroom James had insisted on, until it was all one, and nothing matter other than the still body of her baby boy.

"What a shame..." A voice, smooth as silk and calculating as a stalking cat washed over her.

She _knew_ that voice.

It wasn't one she ever wanted to hear again.

She turned her head slowly, feeling so stiff she was certain her neck would creak as it moved. She saw him, dressed in his uniform, the headband gleaming, even in the dim room. The shadows embraced him, hiding his features from view, strengthening the vampiric appearance he naturally had.

Futilely, Lily hugged her baby's corpse closer to her. She dimly realized that a better idea would have been to cover her half naked body.

But if he tore through her baby's body, it would hurt her more than any humiliation ever could. They both knew that.

A low, mocking chuckle floated through the room and sent chills down Lily's spine. "Don't worry, sister of my friend, I'm not here to harm you.

"You see," he continued, "my friend made a mistake a few months ago, and has to leave that mistake behind. Unfortunately, such a mistake doesn't disappear very easily, nor does many find it within their morals to rid themselves of." He sighed, the very action a mockery of human emotion. "I volunteered to aid him... but you see, I need your agreement to do so." His eyes, which she tilted her head down to his feet to avoid contact with, slyly moved to her face, awaiting the response.

Lily's tongue felt as though it would crack and bleed at any moment, but she forced herself to talk. "What sort of mistake?" Her voiced was raspy, her words broken. Lily knew her normally pale complexion had whitened to an unhealthy state during the man's explanation.

The man languidly stepped from the shadows, revealing what had been hidden before. In his arms was a small bundle wrapped in blankets. Although Lily's instinct was telling her exactly what was in those wrappings, she still asked, "What is that-?" But it died on her tongue when one of the blankets shifted and a small face was revealed.

While her _dead_ baby had hints her red hair, even if a darker, muted shade of red, he looked very much like his father. Lily had known he would have been handsome if he had lived. In the bundle was a mass of black hair, twisted every which way, somewhat feathery. Lily noted that he couldn't be that old; he didn't look too different from her baby.

In fact, he looked too similar than another baby should.

Lily squeezed the corpse tighter. "Is he...?"

"Yes," the man cloaked in shadows muttered. "He is your brother's son."

"Get him out of here!" Lily rasped, throat closing. "I want nothing to do with them." Flashes of Petunia yelling at her, hating Lily for her magic rose to her mind. "I will not have the that traitor of a brother in my life," she hissed.

"Lily, please. Listen to me. This child needs parents to take care of him. Your brother cannot, and I cannot. My granddaughter cannot."

Tension lessened slightly in Lily's shoulders with the sincere plead. "Your granddaughter... you mean...?"

"Yes. She is this boy's mother." The note of displeasure carried in the room and set like a heavy comforter.

"I always forget you're so much older than us." Hoping she wouldn't offend him, she continued. "You look to be our age."

"I'm flattered," he drawled, "but your husband is almost home. Will you raise the child?"

Could she? Could she stand to raise her brother's child in place of her own? Could she forgive her brother for his crimes? To see both him and his son as her family?

No. She could not.

"Please," was whispered.

Lily felt herself speak, giving in. She took the child and held him instead of the limp body of _her_ son. Her son was gently lifted out of her arms, and even though she longed to keep her baby, a part of her spoke and told her it would be a fruitless act; if she was to pass off her brother's child as her own, a small voice in her mind murmured, she must be rid of all the evidence.

Hate burned in her chest at the voice, her brother's voice teaching her lessons to survive in the war, to make sure she didn't get herself killed because she didn't know how to appear innocent.

She would never admit his lessons saved her life more than once. She would never acknowledge such a thing.

But still, Lily acquiesced, and held the baby as she had her own just a few moments ago.

"Thank you, Lily. _Sayonara_." He and her baby vanished in a fraction of a second, leaving her alone with black hair and green eyes.

"...Good bye, Madara." _May I never see you again._

It was startling to see her own eyes on a small face so unlike her own. _Would my own child have had those eyes?_ Lily should have checked before Madara took him, to know- it didn't matter. She had her brother's son to raise as her own.

And that she would. She would love him, care for him, feed him, clothe him, educate him and be his mother.

A whisper of the blankets against the cover of her and James' love seat as she set him down. Lily took out her wand to clean herself up, and to vanish the dirty clothes.

Mid-way through this, the boy began to wail. Lily continued with her cleaning, her soreness gone with a couple of potions from her bathroom shelf.

When she finished, she lifted the boy, shifted off her shirt, and let him feed. "You'll be a good boy, won't you?" She cooed, once he fell asleep. Kissing his brow, she whispered, "You'll love me, the woman who raised you instead of your traitor of a father. You'll love _me_."

A small hand reached up in his sleep and brushed her cheek. Smiling, Lily kissed the boy, and with a wave of her wand and a muttered spell, she finally left the room. "Yes... he'll be a wonderful son."

"LILY, I'M HOOOME!" Said woman stopped, for her husband rushed into the room, casual until noticing her lack of a swollen belly.

Then his frantic eyes searched her, to assure himself of her well being. He eyed her and fretted over her, asking "Are you okay?", "Where's the baby?", "Is it alright?", and "Are you alright!?"

"Sweetie," she kissed him, "I'm fine. The baby is upstairs sleeping. It's a boy," she said, smiling. "He's a beautiful boy."

James' face filled with shock, and then relief. He beamed. "Let's go see him!" And he raced to the room. Lily followed, amused. Inside the room, James was glowing down at his son, who now looked like a tiny James, and her husband had pride in every line of his face.

"What's his name?" James asked. He had left the decision to her, as he didn't really have a preference, and Lily didn't trust him after finding out the nicknames the Marauders made for themselves.

Lily was quiet for a little while and said, "Harry."

"Hairy?" James blinked, and curiously looked at Lily. "Oh... Harry... you want to name our son Harry?"

"Yes," Lily said. "I've always liked that name." No, she hadn't. But she didn't like her brother's son, so it fit.

"Oh... all right. Anything works for me." Suddenly James' eyes glossed over and he yelled, "Lily! Bloody hell, you should be at St. Mungo's! You just gave birth on your own- blimey, I'm a horrible husband- Let's go!"

Lily carried her brother's- no, _her_ son to the door where James was ready to fly them all the way to St. Mungo's.

Little Harry rested peacefully, sucking his thumb, an act so innocent, Lily thought for a moment Madara had made a mistake and this wasn't her brother's son after all. But the thought passed when she remembered the boy's features before she charmed him to be in James' image; refined, aristocratic, much like Madara, with her eyes, but his hair was black and feathery, most likely from Lily's father, who had had soft red hair. He was definitely related to her and Madara, even if her brother showed through very little.

_Now_, Lily thought as she settled in front of James on his broomstick, _I will have revenge._

But Lily was wrong. She never got her revenge.

She died protecting Harry a little more than a year later.

There was no justice.

oOo

**End Chapter**

Note: I'd like feedback and responses. And I repeat, there will be explanations, but those come gradually.


	2. Chapter 2: Raaf's Theory

Title: Harry Potter and the Kyuubi no Youko

Chapter: 2

Fandom: Harry Potter/Naruto, crossover

Summary: Lily Evans had a brother. But no one knew, not even James, not even after she took in her brother's son and pretended he was her son. So when Harry discovers some rather odd abilities not even wizards have, he's understandably confused.

Pairings: Undecided…

Rating: R, violence.

Genre: General, crossover.

Disclaimer: I own Raaf. Nothing else, aside from my ideas.

Notes: I LOVE YOU ALL. I had such a stressful day, and when I checked my email, I had so many alerts of favs, alerts, and reviews! And the reviews were lovely. For everyone, I am updating now.

Recommended Music: "Haircut," by the Waifs

oOo

_Thud. Crack. Boom, boom, boom..._

Harry ran to avoid the rubble the basilisk created by thumping its tail against the wall. Debris flew around him, occasionally scoring his back or his head. Somewhere behind Harry, Fawkes darted around attempting to distract the basilisk, but to no avail. The sword from the Sorting Hat gleamed off to the left, where it had clattered when Harry let go of it as the snake lunged at him.

This wasn't working. He had to get rid of the giant snake and stop Tom or else Ginny would die. _But how could he do that if he could only run away?_ The situation seemed hopeless; soon he would be exhausted and promptly eaten, without a doubt.

Harry's sneakers squeaked in protest when Harry abruptly skidded to prevent crashing headfirst into a pillar. He turned and just as quickly threw his weight to the left so as to dodge the fanged mouth heading towards him. The floor was damp and cold entered Harry's pores like an infestation, but he rolled on the floor to leave the dangerous area near the King of Serpents.

Sneaking a glance to Ginny's still form, Harry felt a rise of panic when he saw how pale and ghostly she appeared. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the sixteen year old memory of Lord Voldemort, was surely sucking out her life to have as his own. She didn't have much time left, if any.

The basilisk struck blindly, mouth open wide, prepared to bite down the instant it hit flesh. _There has to be something,_ anything, _I can do_.

The snake reared back its head, readying to lash once again. Harry poised himself to jump away, waiting for the telltale twitch of the facial muscles before he dodged, but as Harry moved the snake's movements were slow. _Yes!_ Harry thought, _it's tired! Now I can-_ Harry sprinted to the sword and pulled it up, ignoring Riddle's hissing at the snake to _move already your prey is escaping_!

The sword fit in Harry's hand just as naturally as a broomstick. The snake followed him and reared up to attack once again; as it came Harry saw it get closer and closer and he moved to the side, jutting out the sword. The blade caught against the side of the basilisk's mouth, tearing its jaw open. Harry tilted the sword up as it sliced through, cutting through the top of its head. Blood and gore spilled out onto Harry and the floor, but Harry quelled his nausea to ensure he finished it. He dragged his sword down and guaranteed the basilisk would never pose a threat to any student of Hogwarts.

Harry stood, uplifted and breathless from his victory. He stared at the mess the snake had become, and curiously, there was no more nausea. Harry felt odd, not sick or anything of the sort, but… _detached._ Before Harry could begin to wonder what that meant, the hairs on his neck rose and he spun, only to be stabbed in the arm by Tom Riddle.

Harry fell, dull fire moving through his veins, poison from the basilisk fang Riddle had plunged into his body. It was in this moment Harry knew he hadn't his glasses, yet could see clearly.

Riddle spoke words of how Harry was doomed to succumb to the poison; Harry was free to take as long as he wanted to die, Riddle said. "I have no where to be, after all."

Fawkes settled by Harry's wound. Riddle chuckled, "Look there, Potter, even the phoenix is crying for you." Harry could _hear_ the smug smirk on his next words. "There is no hope for you, Potter."

Harry knew this. He wished it wouldn't be true, but he knew it was. But the pain was lessening; he was definitely dying.

Was he? Everything was becoming sharper again, colors more vivid. _This can't be death_, Harry thought, _unless heaven looks like the Chamber of Secrets._

_Maybe it's hell?_

"What the-? What is this?"

Harry craned his neck, and saw Fawkes sitting next to a bloodied fang. His arm was bloody but unblemished skin was apparent beneath the torn robes.

"Phoenix tears have healing powers... I forgot..." Riddle muttered to himself. He regained his composure and straightened. "No matter. You will still die here." Drawing Harry's wand, he prepared an incantation, or would have if Fawkes hadn't dropped the diary into Harry's lap.

Both Harry and Riddle stared at the plain, black book, innocently laying there, belying the spirit of Voldemort's past, eager to possess any unfortunate fool to come across it.

Besides Harry, the fang shone with its bleached white color, the red of the blood only enhancing the contrast between it and the chamber.

Harry grabbed the fang and pushed it through the diary faster than a thought could cross his mind.

Riddle let out an unholy scream, fading as Harry watched, the scene far too clear and detailed for his eyes. Had Harry been fully functioning and had not just been nearly fatally poisoned, this would have been disconcerting. For the moment, Harry gazed wide-eyed as Riddle flickered and vanished.

The dying screams echoed eerily throughout the chamber even after Riddle had vanished. Harry still sat, fixedly staring at the now ink covered and bloodied fang in his hands, enraptured by the detail he saw. Never had the colors been so vivid, nor the slick liquids have so many twists and shades, or a fang -never the fang of a basilisk, but of fangs in general- have so small bends and shadows to it.

A murmur occurred as Ginny stirred, and just like that, the details were gone. But Harry could still see just fine.

Odd that. Normally everything was fuzzy, as if a constant haze was in his eyes. But he scooted himself over to where Ginny was beginning to rise. Harry had to make sure she was all right. After assuring Ginny that he was fine, both the basilisk and Riddle were really dead, no, she wouldn't be expelled, he convinced her to go to McGonagall with him. Harry placed the sword in his belt with the hat, and Fawkes flew ahead.

On the way out, Harry picked up his broken glasses. Thick rimmed and round, shards of glass fell out even as he lifted them. They were useless, even if he needed them to see. But would this new, perfect vision last? What had even happened? Maybe it was a rush of magic, or something extremely intelligent sounding when it came from Hermione's mouth?

Harry dropped the glasses. He didn't need them. He could get new ones later. Harry smiled faintly at Ginny, and they left the chamber together.

The basilisk fang was clutched tightly in Harry's hand.

oOo

"Harry, my boy..."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

"If I may ask, whatever happened to your glasses?"

"Oh... they broke down in the chamber."

"But don't you need them?"

"That's... er... Professor, I wanted to ask you about that..."

"Go on, Harry, no one will overhear us."

"When I was running from the basilisk, my eyes saw everything perfectly. Better than if I wore my glasses, sir."

"How long did this continue?"

"Until I went over to Ginny. Then my vision was pretty normal, but I didn't need my glasses."

"Hmm... this is odd."

"Sir... what... do you know what happened? Did I do some magic that fixed my eyes?"

"I did not believe it possible to heal the eyes from any wound. Eyes are far too delicate, and the wizarding world has not achieved the detailed control such a procedure would require. But perhaps, with your remarkable ability to achieve great accomplishments, you managed to heal your eyes when the need was great."

"Really?"

"I would not say it was impossible. Magic is a wild force. It is simply our bodies that measure control of it. With no medium, magic would randomly create, destroy and manipulate."

"But... how? How would it, er, do those things on its own? Doesn't it need someone to direct it?"

"Ah, while it has never been proven, I believe it does not. It's not a popular theory. Most wizards prefer to think they are in absolute control of their talents, when this is not the case. Everyone knows of accidental magic. According to theory, magic acts on emotions."

"But, if it acted on emotions, wouldn't it have to be able to feel?"

"As the theory goes, yes, it would have the capacity to feel and think for itself."

"So it's alive?"

"A question no one has been able to answer. Perhaps one day... I will assure you I will do research on how your eyes healed. It's a very odd occurrence, even if one believes the Raaf Theory."

"What?"

"Raaf Theory, my dear boy. Raaf was the man who theorized magic was a sentient being which could act on its own if it had no medium."

"Er... and what's a medium?"

"Ah, it's times like these I regret never instigating those muggle classes in the Hogwarts' curriculum. Medium is a material which a wave, or, in wizards' definition, magic, can travel through."

"Oh."

"Indeed... ah, hello, Lucius. How are you this fine day?"

oOo

**End Chapter**

Note: I love reviews, and consider any and all comments made in them. Any questions, or comments you have I'd love to hear.

By the way, I like to switch into all-dialogue conversations. They'll appear often in this fic. But I never have more than two people speaking, and I try to make them say each other's names often.


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